, upstream, and ran
along the quays towards the south. After passing the railway bridge
the taxi swung down towards the water's edge, stopping at a somewhat
decrepit enclosure, over the gate of which was the legend "Andre
Leblanc, Location de Canots." Hilliard jumped out, paid the taxi man,
and, followed by Merriman, entered the enclosure.

It was a small place, with a wooden quay along the river frontage and a
shed at the opposite side. Between the two lay a number of boats. Trade
appeared to be bad, for there was no life about the place and everything
was dirty and decaying.

"There she is," Hilliard cried, with a ring of pride in his voice.
"Isn't she a beauty?"

The Swallow was tied up alongside the wharf, her bow upstream, and
lay tugging at her mooring ropes in the swift run of the ebb tide.
Merriman's first glance at her was one of disappointment. He had
pictured a graceful craft of well-polished wood, with white deck planks,
shining brasswork and cushioned seats. Instead he saw a square-built,
clumsy-looking boat, painted, where the paint was not worn off, a sickly
greenish white, and giving a general impression of dirt and want of
attention. She was flush-decked, and sat high in the water, with a
freeboard of nearly five feet. A little forward of amidships was a small
deck cabin containing a brass wheel and binnacle. Aft of the cabin, in
the middle of the open space of the deck, was a skylight, the top of
which formed two short seats placed back to back. Forward rose a stumpy
mast carrying a lantern cage near the top, and still farther forward,
almost in the bows, lay an unexpectedly massive anchor, housed in grids,
with behind it a small hand winch for pulling in the chain.

"We had a bit of a blow coming round the Coubre into the river,"
Hilliard went on enthusiastically, "and I tell you she didn't ship a
pint. The cabin bone dry, and green water coming over her all the time."

Merriman could believe it. Though his temporary home was not beautiful,
he could see that she was strong; in fact, she was massive. But he
thanked his stars he had not assisted in the test. He shuddered at the
very idea, thinking gratefully that to reach Bordeaux the Paris-Orleans
Railway was good enough for him.

But, realizing it was expected of him, he began praising the boat, until
the unsuspecting Hilliard believed him as enthusiastic as himself.

"Yes, she's all of that," he agreed. "Come aboard and see the cabin."

They